How Much Longer?
by NuclearFallout
Summary: Random events of the Dragonborn DLC told from the perspective of Miraak.
1. Chapter 1

Vast soulless oceans carrying blank knowledge, meant only for the gluttonous eyes of the beast that dwelled, struck the base of the hulking mess that erupted into the heartless green skies of the demon's realm, of Apocrypha. The tower of the beast growled in corrosion and oxidation over the many millennia eaten away and gnawed at like some sort of towering chew toy for the acidic ocean, each vibration of each decibel of each insignificant wave striking it was never missed, it echoed the ears of a masked man bluntly gazing as far as his weak and exhausted eyes could carry. On top of the massive structure, residing below the wreck of tangled slimy tentacles that riddled the disturbing green hue toned sky. His arms were boringly folded as one foot rested above the other on the smell edge of the tower.

His old and matted robes matched the environment he had disgustingly grown to call home, a dull and shallow green, the occasional lined pattern matted his torso, also coloured a boring hue of yellow. His lower half was encompassed with a varying degree of torn, wrinkled and burnt robe that shrouded and wrapped around his legs. His upper half was a screeching grimace of his vagueness, an enigma of horrific tales waiting to be told. Arms lined in a neat and fashioned pattern with the bones of his fallen kin, twisted however by the corruption of knowledge he had garnished with his deal with the devil. But it was his face that would strike a multitude of emotions, or lack of. A gold tinted tentacle-esque mask donned the mans face, it was reminiscent and familiar to the dragon priest masks of old, but this one was different. It's horrific blank gaze, along with the threatening humm the man behind the mask would often be heard saying, were more than enough to display his intentions.

The man's name was Miraak. A legend long forgotten by some, lost and convoluted in Tamriel's vast and endless source of mysteries to be told. His story was as old the Dragons themselves, one filled with betrayal and revolution, and one Miraak cringed to even conjure a thought about, and one his master, Hermaues Mora, enjoyed to taunt him over.

"How much longer?..." Miraak asked with a hint of gnawing impatience as his head eased back to stare into the sky, he closed his eyes and released a peaceful sigh.

The familiar and chilling grasp of isolation Miraak had come accustom to soon left him. He arched and twisted his body slowly to face behind him, inwards facing the blank slate and green lit gothic state of the towers top level. He seemed uninterested, bored, the Atmoran's arms were still folded as he awaited for the predictability of the demon's return.

A mass of black and parasitic like slime oozed and drenched it's way into the essence of the realm, like small overfilled pocketed portals of emptiness materializing before Miraak. A decent sum of five or six of these slimy black pockets appeared slowly, like a tear ripping it's way to open up. Two or three slender, long, menacing, and black tentacles emerged from each of these pocket portals, they shivered and squirmed about swiftly and without haste, each one had their own personality waving and flowing in their own respective manners. In the centre of these masses, a large pool, much more engrossed than the other ones. A small cylinder like object ejected it's way into it's presence, gargling was heard the entire time. An eery buldge was seen and two slits opened within the cylinder. Hermaues Mora, Daedric Prince of fate and knowledge.

Miraak was unimpressed.

He paced inwards to the central shrine of the upper level. A fine mosaic that accurately matched the horrific theme and disgusting green tone and hue of Apocrypha. A pit and pool of ashy black-green acid, swaying from the false breeze the realm so famously didn't provide.

Miraak flushed past the black and messy encompassment of Hermaeus Mora, his stride emitted arrogance. The one aspect of Miraak's soul ol' Herma Mora could never break was the strength and sense of entitlement he had for his own ego. His pride was as fit and nourished if not more so, then the day the two crossed paths. It would prove to be his downfall again

Miraak's feet remained still for a moment as he could feel the vibrant and obvious presence of his master.

It was humorous.

He gazed back, the dull and empty expression of his mask met the drowsy, tired and lazy eye of this "divine" being. It disgusted him each time. He never understood, he was a god in this plain, where his will was reality, yet why did he constantly and willingly remain at a standstill with his appearance as this mass, grotesque, abyss of tentacles and blank emotionless eyeballs. Even his breathing, it was heavy, as if he were malnourished.

It made sense, Miraak contemplated, he was a hoarder of knowledge, and evidently a lazy encompassment of one at that. Miraak nodded at the morphed and disfigured towers that riddled Apocrypha, they were filled to the brink of ruined books, blank text, and various other miscellaneous pieces of information gathered throughout Tamriel's history, now scattered about through this realm, tossed away and ignored once Hermaeus Mora no longer needed it.

"It's funny." Miraak spoke back to his master, eyes facing forward and hands holding themselves behind his back. His voice gave a light echo, maybe it was his mask, maybe it was simply the sheer power his vocal cords were capable of.

"The amount of time I've spent here, the constant pondering on how long it would take...How long it might be until I could finally...Feel, actually feel." He turned back to Hermaeus Mora and walked a little towards him, it was more of a long pace, like he was entranced in a loop of constant contemplation.

"All this time, all this wandering, reading, gazing, I should have been driven insane. It's finally going to mean something after all." His arms crossed as he stood straight and proud.

Hermaues Mora only watched in fascination, giving the occasional blink, his many tentacles remained in a constant slow yawn and rhythmic pace. His breathing was heavy, his voice deep, threatening and heavy. A gargling mess of sloth and evident laziness. Starting out heavy, and ending heavier.

"I do hope what you speak of does not involve betrayal." The prince's utter deepness stated with an easy blunt. "...My Champion." He stated as his essence awaited a response.

Miraak grinned under his mask and gave a light shrug, "of course not...my master." Miraak responded immediately, his voice obviously meaning to sound proud of his intentions.

Solstheim was his, practically, but Miraak was not as blinded by his pride as one may think. In the recent span of time's cruel slowness, and progression, Miraak, or atleast something inside of him felt a disturbance. His master was hiding something from him, and he wanted him to know.

"Your champion, do not underestimate how I think." Miraak spat with a sense of anger, he knew he was just a puppet, deep down. "I know you have acquired one in these recent times, someone who you've deemed worthy enough to stand where I do!" He stated pointing his thumb at himself. He turned back, "one that also possesses my Oghma Infinium."

Hermaeus Mora was silent for a moment, even the lingering, audible breathing and creeping came to a decease and an awkward sort of silence was felt.

"Anyone I deem worthy has no concern over you, Miraak." His slur got heavy near the end, indicating his annoyance. "My champion's will never in their lifetime encounter you, or your prideful idiocy!" His heavy, sluggish tone and breathing got deeper and more threatening, his tentacles waving more irradically Miraak gazed unamused.

"Unless that is, if you betray me of course...But I am certain that will never happen." A loud gargle was heard from the demon, though in a calmer, yet no less threatening sounding tone.

Miraak's small pace came to a standstill, his eyes met his boots for a moment before looking back up at Hermaeus Mora. "What aren't you telling me?"

No answer was given, only repetative blinks and various tentacle swirls.

"Very well, master." Miraak turned away and went back to a simple and dull gaze outwards into Apocrypha.

Hermaues Mora's essence left Miraak, the small black pools zipped and mended themselves back up, the tentacles slid and oozed back into place slowly and they dripped small fragments of green plasm. The eyes closed, Miraak was alone once more. An isolated crowd was the least of his worries now, soon it'd come to a conclusion.

it was more than obvious though that this wasn't over, the growing plague of tension between himself and his master.

He held his hands back behind his back, he was done. He amused the engrossed beast, he'd have to, only for a short time longer.

He'd never admit it, he never could, but why did he have this lingering emotion? His life encompasses, reading, watching, and pondering. His companions, the only things that drove him from madness are, daedra, mind controlled undead like dragons, and a daedric prince.

With such a frightful clique, how could anything make him feel the way he did. Fearful. Part of him knew why, but his pride swallowed it. He wouldn't accept it, but he knew the truth.

The World Eater, Alduin, was dead. A feat he could never do.

Herma Mora wouldn't tell him, and he could only give an educational guess as to why. His masters current champion, was the very same Dragonborn that killed Alduin. "Impossible..." Miraak stated in a drowse. He shook his head. "The last Dragonborn..." He breathed in slowly and gazed bluntly ahead. "It matters, little..."

Maybe it was simple paranoia. Regardless, it wouldn't matter, no one could even hope to conjure a thought to stop him once Solstheim was his. Not even this apparent last Dragonborn.

A large and feral beast like growl was evidently approaching above Miraak, the entire tower shook at a blue dragon, moving with haste towards Miraak. It's wings and body maneveuring throughout the haze of Apocrypha's vast burning and aching sky.

"Come, Sahrotaar! We have much work to do!" Miraak chuckled.


	2. Chapter 2

A chilling heat and paralyzing grip fastened it's tightening clench around Miraak. With the vast and frightening sense of knowledge that time had moved past him, forgotten him, lost him, his feeling now was much greater. He needed more information on this last Dragonborn, if there even was one. His back arched as he ducked under the racing acidic mist that dwelled within the upper atmosphere of Apocrypha. He clenched his hands to garnish some fastened grip on his scaled friend, Sahrotaar.

The serpent of a dragon ounced, slithered and eased it's way through the heavy, muggy and smog filled skies of the demon's library. He accorded for his master's presence upon his back, he flew with more of an easy and gentle gracing glide, occasionally giving the odd flap and sway of his wings to give the extra lift and power. His navy blue-black skin was cleansed and grazed, eaten away by acidic clouds and rain only to be cauterized and healed, a rinse and repeat cycle. Miraak noticed more on his brainwashed slave, scarring, various open grazes and an entranced and zombified blank stare. The beast had suffered more evident and recent physical trauma in his time here trapped along his master.

Miraak gave his friend a small pat on his back, their time in Hell was drawing to a close, the clean and pure winds of Nirn's skies were intoxicating to imagine. He gazed ahead, staring at the literal empty fascination Oblivion amassed. It matched the very state he was in at this current moment. Feral thoughts battled against his pride and rose his sense of paranoia. Dragonborn.

Sahrotaar decreased altitude, an easy slope descending downwards, the black, metal grated floors of Apocrypha gently came closer.

Miraak held on tighter, his palms flattened as he held on the blue, elongated neck of his serpent friend. He expected the rough flight adjustment.

Sahrotaar's wings flapped furiously as his back leg gently grasped at the black and corroded grated floors below. He flapped his wings rapidly, his torso remained high in the air. Miraak hugged his neck as Sahrotaar's body dropped. A wave of air thrashed it's way from the Dragon's mass as he landed, a large thumping rhyme followed, the metal was struck by their landing.

Miraak gave his friend a gentle and small pat from his gloved hand, "Nox hi, Sahrotaar." He nodded.

Sahrotaar's head turned back to face his master, his deepened and strength filled dragon voice responded with, "Do rahlo, dii in." His head slithered back.

Miraak hopped off the beast's back, his feet slammed on the metal floor with a loud clanking thud, the dark and rhythmic flow of acid underneath sloshed at all the disturbing movements.

Miraak and Sahrotaar were at the very bottom of Apocrypha's tower, Miraak's masked face wandered up slowly, to grasp how far down they had traversed, he chuckled, his deep, lost and echoing voice at it's fullest with pride, he didn't envy those whom had to traverse the fowl journey of trekking to the very top on foot, battling against horrendous monstrosities like the bubbling mess' of Herma Mora's Seeker's, or to feel the wrath of his hulking Lurkers, perhaps the most enduring obstacle to rise above, is one's own sanity. Miraak reminisced the countless occasions of mortal minds wandering, driven madly psychotic because of their lust and search of forbidden knowledge, only to never be found.

Miraak paced a little inwards, he walked arrogantly impatient, he was waiting for something he held his hands behind him for a moment. The only thing ahead of him were small awkwardly placed stacks of random infused pages and ruined books stacked to form a small wall, it was as if someone had just thrown them there centuries ago, left to rot and melt into another eye-soar piece of Apocrypha. Behind that, an endless oblivion ocean of green corrosive hell, random towering spines of dark green rock erected from the waters and lifted into the sky, books molted into them. These monstrous spirals along with the oceans carried on as far as Miraak's eyes would allow, he sometimes wondered if the entire realm was like this, full of horror and monsters, maybe there was a spot not affected by big tentacled demons, or not touched by the acid, if there was, Miraak hadn't found it in his many years occupying the plain.

It was silent, aside from the windy breeze generated from the small cyclones of old mangled pages buzzing around Miraak.

A gargling ambient sound become audible as Miraak waited, he turned with an annoyed sigh, "finally, you should know of my troubles with long waits.." Miraak folded his arms.

Several Seekers, Hermaues Mora's disgusting offspring that watched over his library, floated like wraiths towards him. They matched their fathers monstrous features, they looked like crumpled balls of moppy seaweed with tentacles floating and flailing from under them, flat blank narrow faces attached to large wide craniums resided on top of them, they had ugly boring facial features, four angered slits for eyes and a mouth further down their long faces. Their bodies were like husks, it rested under their heads and had four mangled humanoid arms either curled up or folded in front of them. There were four of them, they all approached Miraak, floating slowly in a slow bounce like rhythm, they stopped in a line, all were facing him.

"Have you acquired my requested text?" Miraak asked, a hint of annoyed impatience in his voice. "I haven't time for pointless loitering." He simply gazed at the creatures.

They weren't dumb, normally they would tolerate Miraak's presence, simply because he was Hermaeus Mora's champion, it was rare for them to comply to his requests unless told so by Hermaeus Mora. Even so, Miraak had found techniques to summon their aid, usually a trade for knowledge, they all looked at each other for one moment, they looked back at Miraak.

One got closer to him, floated away from the group, Miraak cringed at it's approaching sounds, gargling mostly, he took one step back, he feared what would happen if he touched one of them.

The eyeballs of the Seeker, deeply hidden behind the slits of it's face, gazed down. Miraak followed it's eyes. A book was held in one of it's wrinkled, grey, husky and curled arms. It extended it's arm outwards towards Miraak.

He took it without grace, thanks, or without haste. The Seeker snarled before curling it's arm back up and turning back to it's kin, it floated back gargling in annoyance at Miraak's ungrateful attitude.

Miraak was not concerned with the Daedra's attitude, he simply held the book, he caressed it's smooth, hard cover, it was of average size, a decent amount of pages were filled, but not completely, it wasn't in much of a rough condition, but it was evidently being used. He opened the first page, it simply stated,

_'A written accord of all known appearances, sightings, actions, and deeds amassed by the Dovahkiin since his incarceration at Helgen to the present time that this is being written. Discretion should be advised while reading the notes taken, most are of statements told by witnesses of the Dovahkiin's actions, very few are hands on experiences of the authors interactions with the Dovahkiin.'_

Miraak thrashed through the pages, in annoyance, ripping the first page, he would decide what is truth, he read in a rushing skimp, a need for answers he placed his gloved finger over the words of the book, trailing the words he read. He found himself reading aloud the words he did read, a hobby he had developed from simply reading alone for so long.

"I see...Hmm, prisoner at Helgen...Execution...Dragon attack...Judging by how this books states it, this large black dragon was Alduin..."

Miraak's voice carried on some simple "hmmph's" as he kept reading, he flipped the page, "...Whiterun watchtower, dragon attack...Soul absorbed..."

Miraak looked up, "his first taste of being a Dovahkiin..."

His reading paced aggressively and hastily, eyes swishing back and forth under his mask as he read aloud, he stopped for a moment at the statement he read, "...Greybeard summoning soon after...Hmm, he is trained well then..." Miraak clenched a fist after that, he was silent for a moment.

He thrashed the pages, skipping some, reading others, he was angry at the accounts, what was true and what wasn't was irrelevant now, "...College of Winterhold...Well, he isn't a mindless brute then...He has some degree of training in the magical arts." Miraak stated, he was at least glad this man wasn't just an average brute with a hammer, he was intelligent, crafty, sneaky, powerful.

Miraak continued reading about, his head shaking at some of the outlandish statements and words, "...Rescued...Saved...Hero..Traversing...Elder Scroll?...Hmm..." Miraak's voice carried a little, he pondered at why this Dragonborn needed an Elder Scroll, for what purpose, was he even smart enough to use it?

"...Throat of the world...Alduin spotted..." Miraak flipped through some more pages, "...Vampire duels in the streets...Dawnguard?..."

Miraak had almost lost balance from his neutral stance, his feet just barely catching his dazed step back, he hadn't moved an inch as he read the accounts, he wasn't sure how long he had been reading it, time was consumed by his hunger and thirst for knowledge, the Seekers watched him, he turned around, annoyed at their nosy posture, his back was now facing them, they were seemingly waiting for a response. Sahrotaar remained in front of him, breathing heavier as his master read onwards.

"...Dragonsreach...Odahviing?..." Miraak asked in a rushing fit, he gripped the pages of the book tighter and tighter, a tremble came upon him almost suddenly, was it anger? Fear? Envy? Maybe it was a chemical induced mixture of all, and it had finally reacted.

"..No...No..Impossible...Skuldafn?..Sovngarde?!...Slaying of Alduin?!..." Miraak had yelled with all the force in his vocal cords, he gripped the book with such force, trembled with such force, reacted with such force, he ripped it in two at the seam. The Seekers all gazed at each other in amusement. They now started to float closer to him.

Miraak's breathing intensified, each inhale and exhale getting more fuelled by aggression, he tossed both pieces of the book sideways, inside the ocean of acid, it gargling and burned swiftly and with ease, it disintegrated within seconds.

He clenched his fists, mask simply staring at his feet, vision a blur. He now looked up, his dragon's blue snake-like face watched in curiosity.

"No fable in some book will be enough to stop me!...No apparent hero, or false Dragonborn will be enough to stop me!..." The sheer strength and force of Miraak's voice shook and thrashed his surroundings, shook Apocrypha's green skies.

He calmed and eased himself down a little, he was above trivial tantrums such as this. He wasn't sure if he was speaking to Sahrotaar, the Seekers, or himself.

"...I am not afraid of this, I realize there was going to be obstacles...Annoyances.." Miraak sighed, he hadn't noticed the Seekers amassing like ghosts, gently easing beside him. Miraak's eyes were closed.

Something behind all of them, an ambient trickle of noise was heard, past the gargles and grunts of the Daedric beings, past the heavy breathing emerging from Sahrotaar's nostrils. No, this sound was one Miraak had listened to and heard all too many times in his entrapment within the realm, someone had read one of his masters tomes, a black book. They were right behind him.

Miraak folded his arms, "...It matters little, the time comes soon..When.." Miraak's voice paused as he heard the sound, "What?!" Miraak's eyes widened in a suspenseful state of surprise under his mask, they shot open.

His palms opened and sparked a bright, blue, glowing, trickling energy, they lifted up as fast as he could.

Miraak spun and winched his torso with vast speed towards this unwanted intruder, '_I need not some foolish adventurer seeking their fate right now.'_ Miraak thought to himself.

His hands radiated from the spell, the lightning shot a plethora of a smooth current of electric bolts towards the target and struck someone who had just conjured into Apocrypha.

Miraak put his hands down and deceased the spell, he walked slowly ahead, caution was not on his mind, his target was now on their hands and knees, a layer of steam coming from their body where the lightning struck.

"Who are you to dare set foot in here?!" Miraak's voice raised slightly, a smaller dosage of the power of his voice.

He stepped closer and investigated the intruder. Judging by the body type, this person was a man, his body completely covered however. His armour was interesting, not usually what Miraak expected from the typical wanderer or fate seeker, this individual was dressed for battle. It appeared as though it was made from a mixture of scales and bones scrounged from a dragon, rugged, thick and sly like the appearance of his kin. It was expertly crafted and near flawless in it's appearance and condition, who could craft such a fine piece of armour so masterful?

The mans head bobbed with his heavy, wounded, breathing. Steam and smoke still lifting from his armoured torso he was wearing some sort of hood.

Miraak raised an eyebrow.

The man slowly and lazily gazed up, only there wasn't a face under the hood, it was a Dragon Priest mask.

It hit Miraak, the sense he only shared when a Dragon was nearby, the scent of a Dovah's soul. Only this one radiated such a unique power, he has only sensed it in one more place, within himself.

It was him, the last Dragonborn, here and now in his home.

Miraak's face under his mask would have shown anguish and anxiety from the abrupt and sudden entrance of the Dragonborn, but his mask simply stared at the man. He couldn't appear weak, he wouldn't appear weak. He swallowed whatever fear he had felt, and replaced it with the hunger for power fueled by his pride.

He acted ignorant to who the Dragonborn was, "Ahh." He said with a falsified tone of intrigue, his echoing voice displayed intimidation as false and scripted as his intrigue, "you are Dragonborn.."


End file.
